


in a perfect world we’d all be more like you

by Falmouth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Timeskip, Pre-Timeskip, Slow Burn, Snippets, bi sylvain, flangst, verdant wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-20 19:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falmouth/pseuds/Falmouth
Summary: He hadn’t completely understood Sylvain yet, but he appreciated time with him, and it seemed like Sylvain appreciated time with Ashe too. The cold breeze of the Wyvern Moon blew gently between them.“I guess I can be convinced for tea together, after we finish training.”Ashe only notices Sylvain for the first time when he leaves their class to follow professor Byleth and joins the Golden Deer. But he doesn't care, right? Or maybe, Ashe is drawn to him and the professor more than he thinks (or hopes).In which Sylvain and Ashe both join the Golden Deer house and share a series of moments together through the years.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	in a perfect world we’d all be more like you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello it’s me, writing a fic again after what? Four years? I’m so glad I found a fandom (and a ship) that makes me feel like writing again. I really missed it. Also, this takes place in the golden deer route bc it’s the only one I’ve played until now. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s two blue lions boys but hey, Sylvain and Ashe have a dynamic that I really like and I wish was explored more in canon. This is what fanfictions are for, right? p.s. i haven’t played my game in English, I hope there aren’t any incongruences/incorrect terminology! Please let me know if that’s the case

Once, in between kisses, Sylvain asked Ashe what the first impression of him had been. Ashe hesitated and didn’t respond at first because… _ugh_. Probably not what Sylvain wanted to hear.

‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿

When Ashe arrived for the first time at the Garreg Mach monastery for his studies, he was a bit surprised and astonished to find the crown prince Dimitri himself to attend class with him. Dimitri was tall, and the _prince,_ and Ashe felt a bit intimidated in his presence. It seemed like every noble kid from all the corners of Faerghus was there that year, and Ashe hoped that he could compete with them. He soon found out, though, that it was no competition, but rather teamwork and trust; even Dimitri was very nice and gentle to everyone, not caring if his classmates had crests or not, and more than once had even congratulated Ashe for his skills.

He truly noticed Sylvain for the first time only when he ditched their class, in favour of Byleth’s. Sure, the new Professor was beautiful and interesting and Ashe himself was curious of what her class would be, but it just seemed… rude, in his opinion. Each student was assigned to their homeland house and there were no rules if someone requested to change class, but Professor Hanneman was skilled and prepared, despite his obvious preference for students with crests, and Ashe enjoyed lectures with him. Yet, just after one moon since the beginning of school, Sylvain had already changed class.

His childhood friends Felix and Ingrid had joked saying he had a crush on the new professor, but there was also hurt in their voices.

Ashe decided that he didn’t care which class Sylvain attended as long as his academic results were sufficient.

≈

Lonato’s defeat hit Ashe more than ever. It didn’t matter how many times he tried to ask himself, he just couldn’t come up with a reason why he had done what he did. Was it all just to avenge Christophe’s death? And what was the thing he had said about Rhea? Still, dragging the townsfolk into battle was inexcusable. That was the only thing Ashe grasped onto, to tell himself he had done the right thing. He tried to continue with his life as normal, trying to concentrate on his studies only, but he saw Lonato everywhere: in the house meeting every time House Gaspard was mentioned, in the map of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus painted in the Blue Lions’ classroom’s walls.

Byleth came to look for him, with a gentle smile and a book of knights as a gift. She said to pull himself together, and maybe she was right. The professor had caught his interest more than ever lately; her skill with the bow was impeccable and her lance technique was probably second only to Dimitri’s. Maybe that’s what he needed, a change of air and a brand-new start.

“Professor! I have a request for you. Would you accept me into your class? I’m sure I would learn so much more if I could study with you. Will you give me that chance?”

≈

He had sparred with Sylvain a couple of times in the arena, discussing their lance techniques and giving each other tips, but it was the first time that Ashe really saw him on the battlefield, since the mock battle between the houses. They were enemies at the time and Ashe had easily defeated him; he didn’t want to admit it, but maybe he purposely had focused on Sylvain that day, as a revenge for changing class. Kind of hypocritical now, since he had followed him and had changed class too.

Now Sylvain stood proud on a horse, confident and charming as ever.

His dream of being a valiant knight still burned bright in Ashe’s heart, but the first time professor Byleth had put him on horse duty, things didn’t end up well: he fell from his horse dozens of times, and in the end he lied mortified on the ground as the animal tried to eat his boots. Maybe he should have asked her to let him try again, or he could ask Marianne for help. She was reserved and shy, but extremely sweet and skilled with animal care. He wondered, with a twinge of jealousy, how long it took for Sylvain to gain his horse’s trust.

“Hey Ashe? Where are you looking? The Professor wants to talk with you” Sylvain called for Ashe’s attention with a snap of his fingers, creating a little spark of fire between them. Ashe rolled his eyes; learning magic had been Sylvain’s latest obsession, and he didn’t lose a single occasion to show off, waiting to be praised.

“Oh? Thanks.” Ashe answered, unimpressed.

“She’s right there with Claude.” Sylvain pointed to the other side of the field and little glints of light erupted from his forefinger.

Ashe sighed “Great.”

At the end of the battle, he asked the Professor to let him train cavalry again.

≈

Turned out, Sylvain had _not_ gained the trust of his horse yet. Byleth put them in training together the following week, thinking that they could both learn a lot from each other. Ashe didn’t end up learning how to mount a saddle, but he learned about Sylvain a bit better. He remembered a conversation they had had just a week before: Sylvain had made fun of him for his constant training and seriousness, saying that knights didn’t need to be perfect, which was ridiculous because he was training for the same thing as well (“I don’t really care about being a _knight_ in the proper term on the word, I care about being fast and stabbing the enemy first!”)

Of course, no one could reach perfection, but Ashe wanted to do his best and be at least a _good_ knight. And he needed constant training and exercise to do so. He didn’t think Sylvain was dumb, just that he would improve if he just focused a little more. Sylvain was very intelligent and had very good instinct – and good looks – and was extremely skilled on the battlefield. He just had the tendency of getting distracted easily, both in battle and in love. He could understand why so many girls were attracted to Sylvain’s charm, he just couldn’t understand how he could let every single one of them go. Ashe was young, and in war he didn’t have much time to think about love, but he had always imagined his future with a girl he deeply loved and cherished, having eyes for her only. What were the things that Sylvain had said the other day? That he should seize people’s hearts? That if he wanted people to love him, he should offer them what they didn’t have. They were talking about the virtue of being a knight, but Ashe wondered if he was referring to his love life, too. What did Ashe have that he could give to people? What did Sylvain give to girls to make them love him?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud grunt.

Sylvain was laying on the ground, face up, rubbing his head.

“Oh, come on horsie! I just wanted to brush your mane!”

“Her name is Dorte, she’s shy.”

Sylvain got up and mumbled some unintelligible words towards the animal.

“Ouch- ah, I think I hurt my shoulder, can you check please?”

Sylvain took off his school jacket and offered his back to Ashe “Do you see any bruises?”

Ashe gently touched between Sylvain’s shoulder blades, up to his neck and down on his sides. He still had his shirt on but there didn’t seem to be any traces of blood. Despite the cloth, Ashe could feel that Sylvain was extremely well built, and maybe his hands lingered a second too long on his back muscles. Maybe he did have a good training after all.

“I- ah, does it hurt anywhere? It seems you’re fine”

Sylvain shrugged. “Seems so. Do you think a scar would make me more attractive?”

He spun around and winked, tracing a little heart in the air with his forefinger. “I wonder if girls would be into that” he continued, before Ashe could answer.

“Makes me feel more mature, like I have a dark past”, he put his hands together and quickly opened them, as if simulating an explosion. A wave of black smoke formed between them.

Ashe sighed. He still had a long way to go to learn black magic if this was his attitude towards it. Still, it was kind of... _cute,_ seeing Sylvain so determined to learn something.

“I really admire you, you know”

_ That _ was different. It was rare to hear Sylvain praise him out of nowhere.

“Learning how to ride a horse is more difficult than I thought. But you never let that discourage you. I think that’s admirable, how passionately you want to become a knight.”

“I- uh, thanks.” Ashe didn’t really know what to say.

“As a kid, I never had a dream of what I wanted to be. I just lived everyday not thinking much about my future. My brother, he – well, you instead seem to have clear ideas about everything; I think it’s admirable.”

For someone who always boasted, it was weird seeing Sylvain so insecure about himself, and Ashe wasn’t too sure of what to say. It pained him to see his friend in trouble, and he wanted to do his best to help him.

“I don’t know if I ever told you - I decided to become a knight after I found a book at Lonato’s house. After having lived on the streets thinking only about myself and my siblings to live, the idea of helping others seemed nice, just because it’s the right thing to do. Just as Lonato helped me because he was a nice person.

“It’s what helps me going forward, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I can’t do it, but then I imagine myself as the protagonist of an adventure book, and I feel like I can do anything! Everyone has their own thing that makes them happy, Sylvain. But if you want a bit of inspiration, I can lend you a book of mine.”

Sylvain smiled and patted friendly Ashe’s cheek.

“As I’ve said before, I think you really are a great guy. Wanna grab tea together?”

“Wanna _train_ together?” Ashe said, mocking him. Maybe flirting was what made Sylvain happy?

“Oh, come on, _Asheeeeee_ ” Sylvain groaned, slouching and leaning his head on Ashe’s shoulder. He must have looked ridiculous because Ashe was much shorter than Sylvain was, and he had to bend his knees to do so.

“Last week it was your birthday, right? I heard that you had tea with the Professor. Spare some time for a cup of tea with a friend too?”

Ashe smiled. He had never had an interest in celebrating his birthday; to him, he was reborn the day he was accepted into Lonato’s home. But the thought of Sylvain wanting to spend some time with him on his special day made him feel bashful, and he could feel heat tint his cheeks.

He hadn’t completely understood Sylvain yet, but he appreciated time with him, and it seemed like Sylvain appreciated time with Ashe too. The cold breeze of the Wyvern Moon blew gently between them.

“I guess I can be convinced for tea together, after we finish training.”

≈

Ashe was observant. He wasn’t too comfortable in most social situations and he enjoyed time alone, sometimes reading, sometimes playing with the cats, sometimes studying his classmates. 

For example, Sylvain talked a lot with his hands. Whether it was just to fix his hair or to flex or to one-sidedly hug his friends, he was very much more vocal with his gestures than he was with his words. He always whispered sweet nothings and triviality to the girls he tried to hit on, or came up with crazy excuses when breaking up with them – Ashe didn’t know how he avoided a slap in the face sometimes.

One time, during lunch with Dimitri and Felix, he had put his arm around Ashe’s shoulder and held him close to his side, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, guess he is a little fawn now.”

Dimitri had stopped eating and looked at Sylvain with his fork mid-air, brow raised, while Felix had groaned and mumbled something like ‘insufferable’.

Ashe just wanted to have his meal in peace.

He didn’t exactly hate it, Sylvain always respected his boundaries; it was just odd for Ashe being touched with such affection by his friends. He wasn’t as vocal as Sylvain was with hugs, but he guessed that if hugging and ruffling hair and leaning on shoulders was Sylvain’s way of expressing affection, he shouldn’t suppress it. He was like an adventure book, new, refreshing, unknown, and Ashe couldn’t wait to uncover all of it.

It seemed, instead, his tongue was meant for telling lies (“Don’t listen to the _bullshit_ this moron says” had said Felix (more than) once, which was another way to put it, he guessed), so Ashe loved when his hands betrayed him and spoke the truth: Sylvain made fun of Felix for his gloominess, but always leaned in close to him, comforting each other when they needed it, he said that he didn’t like cats but Ashe spotted him often trying to feed his leftovers to the feline strays that wandered at the monastery.

One evening, when he finally gained the trust of the black and white one and was able to pet it, he couldn’t hide his enthusiasm and raised his fist to the sky in victory. He didn’t realise how _cute_ he was when he thought no one was watching.

Ashe joined him with a laugh. “So, it seems you do like cats after all.”

Sylvain jumped, startled, and the kitty ran away with the fish in its mouth.

“H-hey! I was finally able to pet it and- oh, hey Ashe.”

Ashe crouched next to him, balancing on his knees: at this hour of the night, no one was outside, and the garden of the monastery was lit only by the dim reflection of the moon. The chatter of people still inside the dining hall was a pleasant background noise.

“Sometimes I think you put more effort in trying to court the cats than the girls.”

Ashe wasn’t probably the best with words either. He realised more than often that his brain spoke without filter - he was just saying the truth, in his opinion - but sometimes the truth could be considered-

“ _Rude_ , Ashe.” Sylvain said, pouting. “I always care for the ladies the best.”

Ashe didn’t answer and made some kissy noises at the bush in front of them. The kitty from before timidly came out again, licking its whiskers and meowing.

“You want some more, kitty kitty?” Ashe spoke with a sweet, high-pitched voice. “Come here to get your fishy” He held an anchovy above the ground in front of him and waited for the cat to come get it. “Good boy!” he said, with the same sweet voice he reserved to cats only, when it finally grabbed the fish from his hands.

“You know, this is my cat.” Sylvain said, amusingly watching Ashe scratching the cat’s belly.

“Ah-uh?”

“Yeah, it’s a Gautieron, so-” he put his hand on his chin, pensive “a _Catieron_ -”

Ashe snorted and pushed Sylvain away. Probably too forcefully, because he lost his balance and fell ass up on the ground. Whoops.

“Is this what you’re referring to when you say that girls are charmed by your witty puns?”

Sylvain looked up at him, sprawled on the ground and holding himself up with his elbows. “I don’t know, are _you_ charmed?”

Ashe rolled his eyes and got up, looking down at Sylvain. He leaned in:

“Not in the slightest, _kitten._ ”

He went away before he could see the blush spreading on Sylvain’s cheeks.

≈

As a kid, Ashe loved to read stories of knights, dreaming of a future of shining armour, saving the people and the world from the forces of evil. He would hide under blankets, eating up pages and pages of heroes of the past being valiant and brave, returning home victorious to their family and friends. Sometimes, he would read those same books to his little siblings, making up character’s voices and acting up passionately his favourite passages that he had learned by heart. Other times, it was his older brother Christophe to read books for him, the darkest and frightening ones he was too afraid to read on his own, holding desperately on his hand as a support.

In the end, not many things had changed. Ashe still loved to read about knights and still dreamed of being one, he was still afraid of ghosts and sometimes he would leave the candle on his bedstand lit after a particularly scary chapter.

But many things were different too: his siblings were far from him now, not as interested in knights’ stories anymore as they had been, and Ashe didn’t have an older brother anymore to turn up to when he was afraid, or insecure.

Ashe had also understood that sometimes fantasy books not always spoke the truth: every single one of them talked about a Great Ball, a grand, spectacular event in which for a second all the worries of war seemed forgotten and the heroes could indulge themselves in dancing and drinking and falling in love.

In Ashe’s opinion, Balls were just… _exhausting_.

Dancing was tiring and it hurt his feet and being in the same room as so many people was kind of overwhelming.

He had been looking forward to the Ball held at the Academy for the anniversary, but it didn’t take him much to realise that dancing was definitely not his thing. Maybe he wasn’t the kind of hero destined to find love on nights like this.

So now he had found peace at the fishing pond, away from the music and waiters constantly asking him if he’d liked another glass of wine.

He had just closed his eyes and dipped his naked feet into the water – taking his shoes off was a goddessent relief for his sore feet - when Sylvain found him and asked if he could join.

(“Why is it always you? I have other friends, you know.”

They had this balance where Ashe would tease Sylvain more than he dared with any other, and Sylvain would just laugh, amused. They had found themselves alone more than often lately, just the two of them, and developed this little unique dynamic of banter and small conversations, sharing interests and knowledge. Talking with Sylvain was more interesting than Ashe ever thought, and he always looked forward to these little moments together.

“Oh, so you do consider me your friend. How honoured.”

Ashe wasn’t as good at being teased.

“What, I-, of course I consider you my friend, Sylvain. If you think I-”

“Ha, I know. Just joking, sorry.”)

Sylvain sat next to him, and the little waves of the water were a lullaby to their conversation.

Ashe thought that Sylvain more than anyone would have enjoyed a frivolous night of dancing, given how much he had talked about it the previous week; yet here he was now, alone from the ballroom spending his time with Ashe only. He looked _tired_ but differently from Ashe: a tiredness in his eyes and his heart that had nothing to do with the Ball.

“Girls problems?” Ashe dared to ask.

Sylvain mumbled something he didn’t quite understand.

(“So, I was seeing this girl, I think her name is Annette…”

“Wait, I’ll stop you here. Annette? _Our_ Annette?”

“No! No, maybe her name wasn’t even Annette… Annie? Anna? Anyway, it’s not relevant!”

“I think I see why she broke up with you.”)

“You know, legend says that on nights like this, destined lovers meet up in the Goddess Tower and if they exchange vows, they will always come true.”

Ashe knew. Though he was pretty sure that it was true for every wish, and not just lovers’ vows.

“You think someone is up there, making promises of love, maybe making out? What if it’s someone we know? Maybe it’s the Professor.”

Ashe really didn’t care about the Professor’s love life.

Sylvain sighed and laid down, stretching his arms up his head.

“Didn’t it ever pique your interest? Try to go there and see if the person you like is up there as well? Wouldn’t that be _destiny?”_

Ashe thought about it: love was a complicated feeling and he didn’t really want to deal with that. “Not really.” And then he added:

“What about you? Afraid the person you want won’t show up? Afraid _no one at all_ would show up if you go up there?”

Sylvain didn’t respond. _Ouch._ Had Ashe touched a sensitive nerve?

“You know why girls like me, right? Because I’m an easy one-way ticket to nobility. They just want to use my dick to-” and he used some crude words Ashe dare not to repeat “-a crest child out of me just to continue having a name generation after generation.”

He took a deep breath and continued:

“They don’t look for love in me, so I don’t look for love in them either. Heh, they don’t even know anything about me, nor do they care. Not about my past, not about my family, not even about stupid things like which kind of tea is my favourite.”

_ I don’t know which kind of tea is your favourite _ Ashe though, with a twinge of guilt building up in his chest.

“And I’ve never regretted any of my past behaviour but lately I’ve been thinking… maybe I am doing all of this wrong, you know.

“I actually asked the professor for a tea the other day and she just looked so disappointed! _Ouch!”_ he theatrically put a hand over his chest. “There was no double meaning, I swear, but that got me thinking. That if I want a girl, or anyone, to really like me, I should become a man worthy of trust.

“And you said that too, that it’s not chivalrous of me to keep bugging girls all the time. And my father always writes me to get my head straight and prepare to spend the rest of my life with the perfect crest girl he suited just for me and that just… _sucks_.

“Sometimes, I really envy you. No crest, no worries about this sort of things.”

He sighed deeply and then shut up, looking away from Ashe, probably ashamed of having suddenly revealed so many personal information out of nowhere.

Ashe had never seen him so _vulnerable_. (Maybe he had accepted too many drinks from the waiters?)

“You know, when I was younger there was this…” Sylvain had been honest with Ashe, so Ashe thought he’d be honest with him too “…boy I really liked.” A pause. “I didn’t even know him too well: his family had a bakery in town, and we talked only when I went to buy bread.

“Lord Lonato even hated the bread from that place, but I always went there because I wanted to see him.” A humourless laugh.

“We were friends, I guess? He was always up for a chat, but we never met outside of the bakery so… I don’t really know what he thought of me. I don’t even remember how or why I liked him, I just remember feeling so _attracted_ to everything he did, and he _did_ have pretty eyes but, _uhm.”_ Where was he going with this?

“But then the place suddenly closed, and I never saw him again. Guess I really was the only customer.”

Sylvain remained silent, letting Ashe take his time to find the right words.

“And I never even told him how I felt, or I thought I felt towards him. The first months were a bit of a mess for me, aha.”

“Do you still like him?”

“No.” Ashe answered, honest.

He laid down next to Sylvain, looking up at the sky. The lights from the castle made it difficult to see the stars and the sky was dotted with dark clouds, still highlighted from the late red rays of the sunset. He heard a thunder in the distance, and it echoed deep in his heart.

Really, it had been years, and away at the monastery, Ashe had been distracted enough to forget his self-deprecating one-sided crush.

“But sometimes I think, how things would be different if I had told him. Sometimes I wonder what I would say if he… I don’t know, if he suddenly appeared at my door and told me ‘Oh yeah Ashe, remember me? I’ve always liked you too…’.” He scoffed. “As if.”

He turned around, looking at Sylvain. He was still silent, looking up at the sky and avoiding Ashe’s eyes but at the same time looking like he was dependent on everything he said, like every word from Ashe’s mouth was like fresh water on a hot day, and Sylvain was a lost wanderer dying of thirst.

“My point is, we make our own future, Sylvain. And if you think you’re not a good person and you want to get better, that’s already a sign that you are. A good person, I mean. And family…issues may impede us from doing what we really want, or who we really want to be, but they can never stop us.

"And if you don’t want to marry a random girl just because of your Crest just say a big… _fuck you_ to your father and don’t do it”

Sylvain stayed silent for a second and then burst out in laughter. He turned around and held his chin on his hand, looking directly into Ashe’s eyes. During the day, Sylvain’s eyes were warm and captivating, the golden sand of the burning desert, but during the night they were a deep pit of dark brown, a well of unknown with a glint of light at the end, calling for the most curious’ hearts like a siren’s call. What would have happened in Ashe had followed the chant, falling into that darkness?

“Yeah” Sylvain laughed. “I should do that. Though I should probably flee from the country right after. House Gautier with no crest heir? My father would rather kill me with his own hands.”

Ashe smiled.

“You can become like the Traveller of Fódlan. In the future, libraries of faraway countries will have your stories in it; kids will be forced to read the adventures of the Great Knight Gautier from Faerghus, who escaped from his homeland to find his true love.”

“Maybe I don’t have to go so far to find that.”

Ashe purposely ignored the implications of what Sylvain had said.

Then Seiros, maybe taking pity of two awkward boys opening their hearts a bit too much, in a winter evening laying down on the uncomfortable stones on the deck, opened the world on them and it started raining.

Those two same boys started running back towards the ballroom, to the safety of walls and a ceiling above their heads.

(“The one who arrives first wins a dance with the other!”

“Wh- Sylvain! What does even mean, it’s going to be the same.”

Ashe was dangerously close to the pit of the well, just another step forward, just one…

“Hey wait! You started way ahead from me, it’s not fair-!”)

Someone, maybe, up the stairs of the Goddess Tower, was meeting their beloved, exchanging promises of forever, or maybe kisses, holding hands and tying hearts, deaf to the sound of the falling rain.

Ashe didn’t care.

≈

The night before the final battle, Sylvain came to look for him. He didn’t say anything, just sit with Ashe on his bed and put his head on his shoulder. Ashe didn’t need to speak any words; he tried to comfort his friend silently, and gently took Sylvain’s hands in his and held them tight. Sylvain returned the gesture, but Ashe could feel that he was trembling. He was afraid. Of course, everyone was afraid, and scared of the meaning and consequences of this war. He had never interacted much with Edelgard but — he didn’t know what all this meant. They all were just kids sent to war too soon.

Sylvain had seemed particularly troubled and Ashe wasn’t used to this side of him. At dinner that day he had blanked and when Felix had snapped his fingers in front of his face he had jumped on his seat, knocking over all the glasses on the table.

Ashe opened his mouth, maybe to reassure Sylvain, maybe to talk about nothing at all, but the other spoke before him:

“We really are going to war, huh?”

Maybe Sylvain all this time had naively hoped that they’d never face an actual war, that school days would go on forever without the future ever reaching them. That they’d always continued to laugh and joke in the dining all, to play board games until the lights of dawn crept from the window. Or maybe that was a lie he kept saying to himself after what happened with his brother Miklan. Ashe had noticed how he had plastered on a fake smile, telling everyone that he was fine, but his hands had trembled around the Lance of Ruin the first time he had held it.

“This is what we’ve been training for, isn’t it?”

Maybe Ashe should have started talking about something else, given how Sylvain stirred at his question: maybe he should have just prompted for a distraction, emptying Sylvain’s mind with empty words, rambling about all the little things he didn’t care that Ashe was so knowledgeable about, something to fill the heavy silence of a truth neither of them wanted to accept.

Sylvain started to touch absentmindedly Ashe’s hands, slowly opening them finger by finger and massaging his knuckles, just to have something to do with his hands.

Ashe let him do it; Sylvain’s hands were warm and soft, and he guessed the repetitiveness of it was comforting, somehow.

“When the war is over, you should come visit Gaspard with me. It’s not too far from Garreg Mach but there are many typical dishes that I think someone like you from the barren north would appreciate. When I was young, me and my parents used to go on excursions on the river, looking for fishes and aromatic plants, for- for the restaurant, you know. We could go there and, I mean, y-you and everyone else, a Blue Lions’ reunion! Felix, Dedue and-” mentioning Dimitri was painful. Even if he had changed class, he was still close friends with the blond and since Edelgard’s declaration of war, he had been out of the world. His hair was unkempt, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He kept mumbling about how he was going to kill her and was always closed in his room. Ashe wished he were able to comfort him, but he thought it wasn’t his place.

“Anyway, yes, the lake- I mean, the river, it’s perfect for...”

He was rambling.

“Fourteen.”

“visiting the…What?”

“You have fourteen phalanges on your hand.” Sylvain repeated himself.

Ashe couldn’t understand what the hell he was talking about.

“Yeah!” Sylvain finally rose his head from his shoulder and grinned at Ashe’s confusion. “Look!”

He opened Ashe’s palm and pointed it to his owner. “That’s the right number of phalanges a human has. You never lost a finger! Congrats!”

Ashe looked at his own hand and then at Sylvain, who was smiling devilishly.

“I think that’s really important for and archer since-”

“You… you’ve been _counting?_ I thought you needed a friendly support!” Ashe exclaimed. “And I gave it to you!”

He used said hand to push Sylvain’s grinning face away from him. “You’re _insufferable,_ Gautier.”

“You were so serious about it, I needed to light up the mood!”

“Ser- serious, _seriously_ Sylvain, you’re the one that came into my room to-”

“Thank you.”

Sylvain leaned closer and looked at him with a soft smile, like all the worries he had a second before were washed away. He was weird. Was that his unhealthy way to cope with things? Just pretending that he was fine and nothing had happened, nothing terrible was bound to happen in just a few hours? Or maybe, maybe Ashe had really helped him, his words really touched his heart and relieved his worries?

“You always cheer me up.” Sylvain said, and then kissed him.

It could barely even be considered a kiss, he almost didn’t touch Ashe’s lips at all, he didn’t move his mouth or made any sound, and in just a second he backed away.

Ashe didn’t have the time to say anything, to realise what had just happened, or know how to feel, that the other had already leapt out of the room.

Maybe Sylvain wasn’t even trying to kiss him, maybe he just wanted to talk, or hug him and had just accidentally brushed against his lips instead. The last thought somehow made Ashe incredibly sad.

He didn’t manage to see Sylvain at all the following day.

‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿

Sylvain had known of the promise that the Golden Deer house had made of meeting again at the Garreg Mach monastery after five years, in the occasion of the anniversary, but he had lost all hope of a reunion actually happening, considering the current events of Fódlan.

So, he stayed at home and watched the date on the calendar pass by, but his curiosity and nostalgia took over and he couldn’t wait for more than three days. He packed quickly and left home without a note; he had made his choice and there was no turning back.

He arrived at Garreg Mach sure to find bandits ready to take his life, but he found Hilda instead complaining to him for being late.

“Sylvain! Look at you, so handsome! I really missed you, you know? How impolite of you to make a lady wait…”

He hugged her like it was the last thing in his life. “I missed you too.”

Within a week, every former Golden Deer had returned, in hope to find their old classmates, or the Professor, or maybe answers. The Professor was indeed there, as beautiful as ever, but she didn’t have answers and she couldn’t explain where she had been for all this time.

With Claude as a strategic commander, things almost seemed back to normal, for a while. They still went to classes and hung out together at the dining hall, or at the fishing pond.

Ashe’s absence was suffocating.

He had tried to ask the Professor if she knew something about him, but she had just looked down with a sad smile and hadn’t answered.

Sylvain wondered if it was safe to send letters across the country at a time like this. He was afraid of it being intercepted and their new base being discovered. A tiny part of his heart was afraid there would be no one at house Gaspard to read it.

≈

Ashe had always considered himself to be a straight-forward guy. He wasn’t the strongest in battle, but he was passionate and determined, and always spoke the truth.

Even now, standing in the burning Ailell, he knew he had made his choice. He had decided to side with Lord Gwendal and live in Lonato’s place and memory, but he had never imagined he would have to fight his old classmates.

“I don’t want to fight you, Professor. But this is how it has to be. There’s no turning back”

He remembered a conversation he had with Catherine, once. She said she had killed his brother Christophe because it was the right thing to do, as a knight. Ashe hadn’t known what to answer back then. He had always dreamed of being a knight and he had always thought that doing the right thing meant helping others, but what if helping others meant killing his old friends? Was destroying a life worth for the greater good? Where did he draw the line between right or wrong?

His thoughts were in a whirlwind and his heart started to beat faster as he saw the Professor approaching. Just for a second, he selfishly hoped that she would ignore him, and others of Gwendal’s soldiers would have to deal with her. Maybe, if he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t see the outcome…

“Ashe…”

Her voice broke his heart, and his hands trembled around his bow. She took a step forward and dropped her sword to the ground. _What was she thinking?! Being unarmed in the middle of the field? She could be injured…No, wait, she was the enemy, he had sworn allegiance to Lord Gwendal, and he had ordered to attack her, so he…_

“You are welcome to come back. Please join us.”

He lowered his bow. How could he think even for a second that he could kill the Professor? Or any of his old classmates? After the fall of Garreg Mach, Ashe had found himself lost. He didn’t have a home to come back to, and his friends were all at war against each other. Lord Gwendal was an old acquaintance of Lord Lonato, and he just found himself in his ranks. He wasn’t even sure what he was fighting for, and he dared to call himself a knight? He would choose Professor Byleth over him any day.

She smiled, warm and welcoming, and Ashe could feel tears running down his cheeks. She had always been like that, ready to accept everyone and caring, listening to everyone’s problems and helping them both in battle and in everyday’s life.

“You… want to spare me? Why?” Ashe asked.

“You are our friend. We all love you and miss you.”

Before Ashe could answer, a knight arrived on Byleth’s side.

“Professor, update: the left side is clear, everyone is tired but alive. You should probably talk with Claude for our next mo-”

Sylvain stopped talking and looked directly at Ashe, standing tall on his horse: he had longer hair now, messy and stuck to his sweaty forehead, either from weariness or the heat. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked more tired than ever, and Ashe could only look at him from the ground upwards, and he felt so small and impotent. The dim red lightning of the Valley of Torment highlighted his cheekbones and made him seem almost ethereal, a halo of despair blessed by the Goddess herself.

Ashe stared at him for what felt like a cruel eternity, not knowing what to say, or how to feel. He watched the world around him move as in slow motion: without breaking eye contact, Sylvain jumped off his horse, his lance hitting the ground and echoing in his ears, and ran towards Ashe, closing him in a strong embrace.

Ashe lost his balance and took a few steps back, but Sylvain only held him tighter, keeping him close to his chest. Then he started crying. Ashe only knew because he felt hot tears wet his neck.

“Sylv-” Ashe’s voice broke too, because who ever made Sylvain _cry?_

“I missed you so much” Sylvain spoke to him for the first time in five years. “I thought you were dead.”

Ashe didn’t know what to say. Saying sorry seemed like an empty word, and he knew Sylvain understood him best when he talked with his actions.

He returned the hug, holding his friend’s back like he was afraid he was going to disappear if he let go. He had made his choice.

“I’ll…I’ll do it. I’ll join your side. Let me fight for you.”

≈

In Ashe’s favourite book, the Hero returned home victorious on the first day of the Lone Moon.

‘It’s supposed to be dramatic irony’, he used to say as a kid, because ‘even if it symbolises loneliness and parting, he returns to his friends after the battle, and he’s not alone anymore.’ Even in the darkest hours, there was always the hope of Spring growing stronger, bearer of good news and new days.

On Lone Moon 1st, 1185, Ashe Ubert returned to his friends; he didn’t feel particularly heroic or victorious, but he definitely felt at home, between the hugs and kisses of all his former classmates that couldn’t stop screaming how much they had missed him, how glad they were that he was back…

Even Felix broke his typical frown in favour of a soft, hidden smile, just for him.

Ashe looked at Sylvain and thought of how they had cried on each other’s shoulders just a couple of hours before. He seemed fine now, laughing and smiling, trying to keep his dish away from Raphael’s hands.

Everyone had changed a lot in five years; different haircuts, different heights, different hearts. There was no denying that something had changed for all of them, and Ashe felt different too.

Sylvain was now raising on his tiptoes, keeping the food up his head.

(“Sorry, can’t share this dude, it’s like, my favourite meal and it’s the last serving.”

“You gave half of it to that red-haired girl before, though.”

“Ah, well, you see, don’t take any offence but-”)

His raised arm showed off the muscles on his biceps and back, and his shirt lifted a bit too, showing part of his stomach. Ashe noticed a few scars that looked rather new and-

“Hi, Ashe. You’re staring.”

He jumped on his seat.

“I- _uh??”_

Professor Byleth sat next to him. She pointed at the scene in front of them. “At Sylvain.”

_ Was he?? _

“I know what you’re thinking.” She said, ignoring Ashe’s panicked face. “You want to learn how to ride a horse too, right? He got so much better in these years.” She put a finger on her chin. “I’m afraid at this point he’s more skilled than I will ever be, so if you want, I can ask him to help you with that.”

“I- yeah, sure! That was exactly what I was thinking! Thank you so much!” Ashe kind of shouted, embarrassed, and hoped that the person concerned wouldn’t notice.

“I am very glad.” Byleth smiled. “Dinner first though, and then to bed.” She left Ashe at his table red as the berry sauce in front of him.

Later that night, back in the comfort of his own old room (despite the dust and the cobwebs) he heard a soft knock at the door.

“So,” Sylvain started when Ashe opened the door, before he could even say hello. “I heard from the Professor that you need my help. I would have never imagined seeing the day where I would be a better knight than you.” He walked towards the chair in the middle of Ashe’s room, sitting on it backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest.

“Maybe I should hold a seminar. Have all those pretty girls call me Professor…” he sighed dreamily. “But since you asked nicely, I’ll give you a special lesson. Just for you, Ashey.”

“I almost regret coming back now.” Ashe said, holding back a smile.

He had missed this; missed the routine of going to class, missed the Professor and her smile, missed his friends, missed Sylvain.

Sylvain and his stupid boisterous laugh, and annoying flirting, and strong hugs.

“You mean to tell me that in five years no girl has still succeeded in stealing your heart away?” he teased.

“Nope! My heart is still in its ice cage of my chest for no one to be seen.” Sylvain said, reclining his chair back and looking at the ceiling.

He had said it with a smile, but it was probably the saddest thing Sylvain had ever said. Ashe wanted to retort, wanted to understand what was going on inside Sylvain’s head, or why he always talked about himself like he was talking about someone else, so detached and nauseated and-

“You know, I’ve never realised how close our rooms actually are” Sylvain noticed, pointing at the ceiling.

“You live upstairs.”

“Yeah, but I mean- I just need a rope and I could climb down the window and then bam!” he waved his hands around in the air “I’d be in your room in no time, so I could check on you with the homework I’d be giving you-”

“You’re going to give me _homework?!”_ Ashe whined.

“Or I could – yeah, of course I will, what kind of Professor would I be – I could cut a hole in Felix’s room and jump right in.”

“I don’t think that’s – I don’t think Felix would appreciate-”

“Oh, remember that time we broke into his room-”

“ _We_ didn’t break into his room; _you_ broke into his room. You just asked me to teach you how to pick locks because you, and I quote, ‘wanted to help the Professor in battle’”.

“Still! It was so fun, I’ve never seen him so angry and I, like, make him angry all the time.” Sylvain laughed, jumping off the chair and shouting at the ceiling “Hey Fe! Can you hear me?”

Ashe squealed at his voice and started to wave his arms around Sylvain’s face, in a vain attempt to stop him.

“Maybe tomorrow morning you’ll find a surprise under your ru-”

“Stop screaming!” Ashe put both of his hands over Sylvain’s mouth, hoping that would shut him up for good. “You didn’t realise how loud your voice was just now? It’s late at night and Ignatz is just next door, and you’re going to wake everyone up!”

He could see Sylvain’s mouth turn up in a smile under his palm, and his eyes had a mischievous glint.

“Don’t you dare!” Ashe exclaimed, taking his hands off of Sylvain’s face just as the latter tried to lick his palm. He wasn’t quick enough though: Sylvain grabbed him by one wrist and tried stretching his tongue as long as it could go as Ashe tried to retract his right hand further and further.

“Come on, if nof fun if you reafise what I want fo do.”

“You’re gross.” Ashe laughed, and gave his wrist one last pull.

Sylvain tumbled forward and grabbed both of Ashe’s shoulder to steady himself up.

Closeness wasn’t a problem between them, and it had never been, but one thing was to hug and joke, the other was being so close to Sylvain’s face that their noses almost touched, that he could see Sylvain’s long, pretty, dark eyelashes, that-

He coughed and took a step back.

“Anyway, yeah-” Suddenly he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah...” Sylvain smiled, and took again Ashe’s hand, softer, gentler this time, and Ashe looked at him with big open eyes as he brought it to his lips and kissed gently his palm.

“I’m glad you’re back. See you tomorrow.”

Ashe nodded absentmindedly.

“Sleep well.” Sylvain said, and then he was out of the room.

Ashe closed the door and sighed as he leaned on it: he had had enough of Sylvain walking out of his room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a beating heart.

≈

When at dinner Claude announced the death of His Highness, the prince of the former Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, Ashe felt the floor beneath his feet disappear.

He wanted to throw up and tear his hair out of his skull, because hadn’t Death claimed so much already? Why was she so greedy, taking and taking so many lives, playing with the souls of thousands within her skeletal fingers?

How many family members and friends he still had to witness dying, fighting in a war that everyone just wished would be over already, yet every month, every week, they were reminded of the horrors of the reality they were living.

He looked at the former students of the Blue Lions; even if houses didn’t exist anymore and they were one united team - one army – Ashe still felt closer to them as his old classmates. He wondered, with a shred of horror, what would have happened if they had stayed at Dimitri’s side? Would they be dead too? Would they have had to kill Claude, if their blades had met in the battlefield? He thought of the words he had with Sylvain just the night before:

(“Do you think His Highness is still alive?” Sylvain asked him, coming into his room late at night, as if knowing that Ashe would have been awake too. To be honest, sleeping had been hard for everyone lately. Even Linhardt had seemed restless, saying that he was working on a special tea that would have helped mending their tired minds; Ashe was very grateful to him for that.

Sylvain said he had asked the same question to Felix just a couple of days before, to which he had answered that _if that_ _boar’s head is still attached to his shoulders, I would remedy that myself without hesitation_.

Felix had always been harsh with words, and often said things he didn’t really mean, but that had hit Sylvain more than usual, and for a second he had believed that Felix was actually saying the truth. If anything, it should have been Dimitri to ask for their heads, since they had all betrayed him.

“I don’t know.” Ashe answered, honest.

“What if we meet him tomorrow?”

Sylvain’s voice was pained, and Ashe was selfishly glad that he couldn’t see his face.

“Maybe Claude will be able to convince him to join our side?”

“What if he doesn’t?”)

Claude hadn’t and now Dimitri was dead.

≈

Winning the war should have felt fulfilling, yet it was like catching a shaky breath after almost drowning, a relief that lasted only half a second, just to be put again underwater. 

Byleth announced the defeat of the Empress of fire, Edelgard von Hresvelg of the Adrestian Empire with fierce eyes but trembling shoulders, and the cheers of celebration lasted only a second as Claude stepped in front her and spoke aloud.

“There is still another threat we must defeat.”

He told everyone the story of Hubert’s letter and Those Who Slither in The Dark and Ashe was just so, so tired of hearing all of this. 

He had met Dedue that day, just for a brief instant. He had begged him to come back, to the monastery, to join them, shocked that he was still alive after Gronder but so, so glad.

But Dedue had seemed deaf to his prayers and had vanished in just a second after ensuring that the Empress was dead. 

The darkest and deepest part of Ashe’s soul told him that it was just his fault, that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t fled.

It became a habit, after that night, for him and Sylvain to meet in his room in the evening, looking for distractions. Some nights, Ashe would read his favourite books out loud, skipping over the passages about the most brutal battles, in favour of the ones that talked about everyday life in the castle, serving the king and courting girls. Sylvain would listen in silence, lying down on Ashe’s bed, sometimes commenting on the main character’s flirting skills (they weren’t too good).

The night before the final, _final_ , battle, Sylvain came to him with a chess board under his arm.

Ashe didn’t think chess was really a distraction, it was frustrating and annoying, and he wasn’t even too sure it helped keeping his mind off other things, but it was a way to kill time, and Ashe really didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts.

After having lost for the third time in a row, though, he dropped his head on the board game with a whine.

“ _Ugh,_ can’t we play something else? I hate these strategy games… I keep losing all my pieces…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get better” Sylvain said, ruffling his hair. “Plus, you already won in my heart.” 

Wow, Ashe thought. Sylvain was really cruel. What did that even mean? Why did he have to add doubts and doubts to Ashe’s already full mind? Was he just playing with him? Was this just another way to tease him like he used to do with the girls? Or had he noticed the shift that Ashe felt in his feelings recently, like he had realised how drawn he was to him, how he always checked on him in battle, how maybe he l-

“Oh, sorry! Don’t make that face! I was kidding, ok? Kidding…”

Ashe was so tired of overthinking. 

≈

It all came to an end in the old Blue Lions’ classroom. Go figure. 

The soft light of dawn radiated the courtyard with a pinkish light, slowly creeping up the walls as the sun rose higher, as if it knew that it was the beginning of a new future for the whole country.

Ashe wandered aimlessly, bathing in the first morning lights, until he found himself in front of his old classroom. After they were reunited at the monastery all the lectures had been moved upstairs, and those rooms left abandoned stood silent and still like a skeleton in everyone’s closet.

Ashe entered what was once the classroom for the Golden Deer, silently, like he had learned so many years before to move without any sound, and looked around:

The dust lingered heavy on the air and he felt like suffocating: everything looked like it was stopped in time, the books, the parchment scrolls, the chairs scooted away from the desks. If it weren’t for the smell and dirt, Ashe could have thought that no war actually ever happened, and everyone was just momentarily out of the class taking a break.

He blew the dust away from what was once his old desk, feeling with his finger the carvings of old formulas.

(“If you want to pass this exam, you need to remember the formula for your throwing range! Here, I’ll write it for you!”

“You can’t- that’s cheating! And damage school’s properties is not appropriate, hey! Are you even listening to me?!”

Sylvain just shrugged and winked at Ashe, whispering a ‘just in case’.)

In the end Ashe had passed the exam without the use of the formula and he still hadn’t learned it now. He worked just fine relying on instinct only.

He smiled at the memory; it seemed like ages ago, when their biggest problems were exams or dancing or hiding from girls (though that had always been a Sylvain only problem).

He heard footsteps approaching and turned around with a gulp; he wasn’t doing anything bad, but he had never lost the habit of always being on his toes.

Byleth – Ashe wasn’t sure if they could still call her Professor – was at the door, her hair shining as if made of light itself: she was beautiful.

She smiled when she saw Ashe.

“I didn’t expect to find anyone here so early in the morning.”

“I- ah, I couldn’t sleep much. Wanted to look around one last time.”

She nodded and walked towards the closest classroom wall.

“We have to prepare for when the kids will arrive the next year, there is still a lot of work to do. Claude said… maybe class division is not a thing that’s needed anymore.” She used a chair to stand up higher and started to take down the typical black and yellow banners from the walls.

Ashe rushed to help her: his nostrils were immediately filled with dust and it made him cough but he didn’t care, this was the least he could do.

She smiled in appreciation and hugged him like an older sister would. Ashe missed a figure like that in his life.

“You will become a great man.” she said, and he could feel tears prickling at the corner if his eyes.

“And if you still haven’t changed your mind about becoming a knight, you know where you can find a place to call home.”

She raised on his tiptoes and kissed him on his forehead. 

Then they heard a voice in the distance:

“…you were here. Felix would want to show you this little trick he learned with his sword he won’t shut up about.”

Sylvain’s unmistakable voice was heard across the walls; Ashe gasped and looked in the direction of the room next to theirs.

Byleth looked at him with a tiny smile, sighing. 

“You know, I think Claude needs my help upstairs, I’ll go to see him. I’ll leave you alone.” She patted gently his shoulder and leapt out of room, balancing the dirty banners between her arms.

Ashe’s feet moved like on their own volition, towards the old classroom of the Blue Lions’ and peeked in.

He stood on the door, looking at Sylvain. He was in the middle of the room, the sun from the window behind him reflecting on the dust particles in the air all around him, glowing on his hair and eyes, making it seem like he was bathing in a pool of gold. Ashe didn’t remember ever seeing him so _alive_.

He smiled softly at Ashe when he saw him. “Hey.”

“I heard you talking, and, uhm- hi.”

Ashe walked towards him, with questioning eyes. He was curious of what Sylvain wanted to say to Dimitri (Dimitri’s ghost?) but he didn’t want to pry if Sylvain wasn’t ready to talk about it himself.

“I was just, you know,” he patted on the teacher’s desk “saying goodbye to all this? I hate to admit it, but I think I’ll miss it.”

Ashe nodded and stepped closer, walking slowly around him; Sylvain turned around a bit each time, without breaking eye contact, like there was an invisible force pulling them together.

“You should wake up early in the morning more often. The morning light does wonders to yours already good looks.”

Ashe swallowed. “I could say the same for you.”

He took another step back until he hit the teacher’s desk: with nowhere to go, he looked up at Sylvain and tentatively put his hands on his sides, pulling him closer. 

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Sylvain had said him the prior week. 

“Come with me in Fhirdiad.” Sylvain spoke in one breath.

“Mhh… too cold.” Ashe teased.

“Anywhere else is fine. I want to be with you.” 

Ashe’s look dropped to the ground: there was no other way to possibly interpret what Sylvain was saying now, was it? His mind couldn’t realise that Sylvain could actually like him. They were friends and they would do anything for each other, but this was just different. It made Ashe’s heart ache in a way he didn’t think it was even possible, and he didn’t even know if it was good or bad. Tidying up his feelings was more difficult than he thought.

“You can’t say that for sure.”

Sylvain sighed and put his hands delicately on Ashe’s shoulders. 

“Ashe I- I’ve lived all my life feeling that I would be never enough for anybody, that everything about me was already written and I couldn’t do anything about it, that all my relationships were out of my control. It was simple: my father loved me because I had a crest and my brother hated me because of it. I let all my life be defined by that, and I’m ashamed to say that it took me so long to realise that’s just all _bullshit_.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“The future is in my hands, and I’ve never been so sure in my life. If, if you want to be part of it too” he added, under his breath. 

Ashe had been pretty sure for a while, too.

He reached forward and grabbed Sylvain’s hands again, bringing one to his own cheek, leaning quietly against it.

Sylvain smiled and moved his hand from Ashe’s cheek to his hair, gently untucking the strand that he always kept behind his ear. Ashe pouted because ‘ _It’s finally long enough to stay in place’_ and looked up at Sylvain through silvery hair (and Sylvain noticed just now how taller he was, the innocent sixteen years old boy lost behind those eyes of green that looked so _desperate_ and _yearning_ ).

In response, Ashe’s fingers glided at the nape of Sylvain’s neck, intertwining with his red hair (again, desperate and yearning), and pulled him even closer, if possible.

“I have this feeling,” he started, panting briefly like it was difficult for him to find the right words “and it’s helpless and wholehearted and-” 

His hands moved to Sylvain’s face and he gently held his cheeks between his palms, as a support for what he was going to say next.

“And I’ve never liked anyone as much as I like you.”

He had been tiptoeing around those words for months, not willing to admit out loud what he could barely admit to himself, but Sylvain was in front of him now, strong and real, and Ashe’s heart was like a landslide during the floods.

When they kissed (finally, finally) they ate up blood of unspoken words. 

Ashe held his lips against Sylvain’s, reminiscent of that day five years prior when he had kissed him, or maybe hadn’t. He still thought about that day sometimes.

He wondered if it would have been proper to ask him about that, or if Sylvain would have teased him, saying that he ‘always knew you liked me back then’. Not that it really mattered because Sylvain’s heart (and hair, and shirt) were in Ashe’s hands right now, and it wouldn’t be worth to dwell on the past. 

When they parted, Sylvain looked bashful, biting his lip almost as to stop himself from smiling, and dropped his head on Ashe’s shoulder, screaming softly.

Ashe laughed. Was this the effect that he had on the great Gautier boy? 

He patted his back in mocking sympathy. “Wow, am I that good?”

Sylvain nodded, “Yeah.”

Ashe’s blush could probably be seen from miles away.

Outside, the sun was now up in the sky, screaming in victory, shining over Fódlan’s new future.

‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿

“You know, I always had a crush on you and did my best to show it, but you always were so _unresponsive_ to my flirting.” Sylvain said, marking Ashe’s face with a multitude of kisses.

“I wonder why.”

“Maybe because you were so taken aback by my looks and charm that you didn’t know what to do.” Another kiss to his lips.

“Sure, whatever to make yourself feel better.”

“Oh, come on Ashe! You’re no fun.”

Ashe’s response was a whisper into Sylvain’s ear, silent to any indiscreet listener, and Sylvain’s burning face he got to see right after was better than anything else he could have wished for. 

**Author's Note:**

> (ﾉ≧ڡ≦)  
> you can find me on twitter talking about fe3h all day [here](https://twitter.com/kyuurashiki)  
> Title is from the song "The Tower" from the show Carole&Tuesday, which I listened to in loop while writing this.


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